Sour
by XxShadowFallxX
Summary: Kyle is forced to go to a party at the Cartman's house. What happens when the evening takes a turn for the worst? Really quick Kyman Fic written at 1 am.


Ah, love.

Everyone defines it differently.

Often many declare that it's the most powerful force on earth that can tear down buildings and rip evil dictators from their thrones.

Others claim love is fate, you do not choose who you love, but the universe, or whatever deity you believe in, sets you up with this person.

The logical way of approaching it is that love is nothing more than chemicals being set off in your brain.

You want to know what I define it as?

A fucking nuisance.

More than a nuisance in fact, more like a giant aching knife in your side that drains every single fucking drop of life out of you and prevents you from moving anywhere.

Love you can suck my balls.

Currently, I'm trapped in a cold, damp and dark cellar with no way out, sitting next to the most self-centred, racist, sexist, manipulative, anti-Sematic, sociopathic dumb fuck of a Nazi to ever walk this earth.

Eric. Theodore. Cartman

Why did this happen to me? I'm a nice kid if I do say so myself, do well in school, keep to myself, don't go out of my way to insult people...

So how do you ask, did the angelic little Jewish boy get stuck down stairs with the next Hitler.

Whoo boy, do I have a story to tell you...

-oOo

"Mooom!" I groaned, whining as she dragged me towards the front door. "Why did you drag me here?"

"Shush bubbe, you need some fresh air." She brought me to the front step, brushing the dirt, dust and snow from my jacket.

"She's right, Kyle." I turn to my father, giving him a dead pan. I really expected him to side with me on this. "You've been up in your room all week, it's time you socialised." He approached me, putting a hand on my shoulder and shooting me a comforting smile.

"Yes, it's high time you spent more time with someone other than Stan." My mother said, adjusting her hair, making sure the wad of bright red locks brought up into her typical bun, did not crash to the floor.

I gave her a questioning look. "Whats wrong with Stan..?"

My father cut in before she could reply. "Nothing's wrong with him, it's just you need more than one person in your company."

I let out a heavy sigh and smacked my palm into my face. It was not worth the time arguing with them. "Ike got to go to a friends place..." I murmured to myself, kicking dust off the path when my parents knocked on the door.

And of course, the town whore answered. "Oh, Sheila, Gerald, come in, we've been waiting for you." Liane Cartman chirped in her regular honey-sweet tone. You never would guess she'd be a crack whore. Huh.

"Oh dear, I hope we're not late." My mother said, stepping inside. "I hope you don't mind, we brought Kyle along with us."

Liane shook her head. "Oh no, you're just on time." She looked at me, pausing and blinking, before closing the door. "Oh yes, I don't mind. No one else has brought their kids and my poor Eric is all lonely. He's upstairs in his room, you should go talk to him."

"Oh no really I'm fine-"

"Kyle go upstairs and talk to Eric." My mother watched till Ms Cartman was out of ear shot. "Be nice, you know he's... 'special.'"

I narrowed my eyes.

Ah yes, nothing more special than being a medically diagnose Sociopath.

I went to protest, by my parents had already left me in the dust, walking over to the Marshes.

Goddamnit Stan, why did you have a freaking football game on this night of all nights! I could really use your support right now.

I jumped when Liane put a hand on my shoulder, a plate of cookies in her hands. She smiled warmly at me before heading up stairs. Guess this means I had to follow. Sighing in defeat, I made my trek upstairs.

"Poopsie-kins." She sung knocking on the door. "I have cookies and a play-mate for you.

I repressed the urge to groan.

"Mum, if its Butters I fucking swear-"

Ah, yes, that's Cartman alright.

"No, sweetie, it's the Broflovski child, Kyle."

It took a moment, before he finally granted our entry.

"Ngh, come in."

In those few seconds, he'd probably thought up 50 different ways to make the next 4-5 hours of my life a living hell.

Liane opened the door and placed the plate of cookies on the desk, telling her son to play nice before shutting the door behind me. Cartman immediately began to scoff down the baked treats.

6 years later and he's still a fatass.

He's grown into weight, though. He's fat, tubby even, but his not obease. His face is still round with that fat neck and double chin, but his body took on a more round shape than an oval one. (After that whole "Fatty Doo Doo" incident he's taken his weight and food consumption into account.)

Still a fatass though.

It took a few minutes before he finally acknowledged my existance.

"What do you want, Kahl."

There he goes, mispronouncing my name again with that stupid voice of his.

"Nothing fatass." I retort, folding my arms across my chest. "Just your mom thought you were lonely. So she sent me up here to "play with you." I said, putting air quotation marks around the last park.

Cartman smirked at the last bit, a malicious glint in his grey coloured eyes. I hate to think what kind of thought just swirled around in that mind of his. Sociopaths are so fucking scary,

"Isn't that nice, Jew." He said, a smirk in his tone. He stood up from his desk, throwing a photo album he was holding onto the bed with a 'thud'. The sudden noise startled me. He took a step towards me, I took a step back. I was cautious of course, if you thought he was bad when he was ten, pift, try now.

I was shocked to say the least when he thrust his dirty plate in my hands. "Won't you take this down stairs, Jew.

His tone suggested he wasn't asking.

Pft, please. Anything to get out of here. I opened the door and began to trot down the stairs, going into the kitchen and placing the dirtied pate in the sink. I snarled the mess. Disgusting.

I turned around, expecting to see nothing but party-goers chatting away and drinking. My sharp, emerald eyes caught sight of non-other than the fatass, talking suspiciously to his mother. My upper lip curled. What is this bastard planning?

Before I even knew it, Cartman approached me, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Hey, mum says we can head down into the basement."

I quirked a brow. "Why would I go into a basement with you?"

Cartman shurged. "Less noise, less people, I got a TV and a PS3 installed down there to."

I studied his face for any signs that he was lying.

I found none.

I did want to get away from here, even if it did mean spending time with fatass. Hell, he's probably go back up into his room and I can spend the night playing Diablo 3.

I nodded, gesturing for him to lead the way.

I didn 't suspect for him to grab my wrist and yank me over there, much like my mother did just half an hour earlier.

I flushed. "Ah-I, W-what the hell fatass!" I called in distress, trying to yank my hand from his iron grip. "L-lemme go!"

It's either Cartman ignored me, or he couldn't hear me over the chatting adults.

I'm going with the former.

He yanked me into the basement, pushing me forcefully in. My rump hit the ground.

"What the fuck Cartman?!" I growled, rubbing my sore behind.

He looked at me oddly, as if not knowing how he wronged me. But he brushed it off. "Kahl." He said, approaching me again.

I shot up and began to slowly back away.

He ignored my behaviour and continued. "I have to show you this; you're going to love it."

"Sh-show me what.." swallowed a lump in my throat, my stomach doing flips. Oh god, it's not a dead body is it?

I wouldn't be surprised if it was, seeing the look he's giving-

My thoughts cut off when The floor creaked beneath me, and within a second, I plummeted.

Landing on my rump once again.

"...that." He managed to say, before bawling out in peals of laughter.

I looked around. It was pitch black, and I mean pitch black. I couldn't see anything apart from the small amount of light that seeped through the (now shut) trap door cracks.

The floor was damp and mossy... Cold to the touch, the smell wasn't all too bad. A bit stale though...

Was this a wine cellar?

Why was there a wine cellar in Cartmans house?

I tried to stand up, but my shirt was caught on something... I couldn't see what.

Cartman was still dying of laughter.

This surely wasn't my night.

"Hey fatass!" I called, stretching up to the wooden doors. "Help me up!"

"No way Jew!" Was the reply. Didn't really expect anything different. "You can stay down there."

A growled and he laughed again. "I can't believe you fell fo-" his own voice was cut off by the same creek I heard. Then, CRASH BANG SMASH!

The bastard and his fatass was practically on top of me.

I gasped for air, his body weight to crushing. With very ounce of my strength, I pushed him off, his face hitting the stone hard.

I could care less.

"I'm sorry, who's falling now?"

Cartman grumbled, sitting up straight again. I smirked in triumph. "Now can you please open the hatch?"

Complying, Cartman got up off his fat ass and reached for the hatch, pushing against it, only to hear a small click.

Huh. I wonder if that was my hearts last beat.

"Whatdidyoudofatass?" I said hastily, giving up and ripping my shirt as I stood.

He pushed against the hatch some more. Nothing. "Ah- ah... It's locked..."

I opened my mouth to speak, but I cut myself off knowing blowing a gasket wasn't the best thing in my situation.

I took in a deep, jagged breath. "Did you try it again?"

He rattled it again. "Nope, nothing."

"Dumbass..." I muttered under my breath.

I quirked a brow as he sat down on the ground, crossing his legs and letting out a heavy sigh.

"What are you doing?" I ask, slight annoyance in my voice.

I couldn't see in the dark, but I was pretty sure he shot me a look. "Sitting. We're going to in here for a while."

Ngh. The fatass was right. We're in the basement, and it was so loud up there, everyone was also probably drunk...

I sighed in defeat and sat down next to him, crossing my own legs and shutting my eyes.

Great.

So I'm stuck in cellar, no way of getting out, with my worst enemy.

Tell me, how did a nice little Jewish boy get stuck down here with the friendly-neighbourhood-Nazi?

Because I sure as hell don't know.

We sat in quite for a few minutes, nothing but soft patting of water droplets and the thudding of voices up stairs was heard.

"You and your stupid Jew magic."

My ears perked as Cartman broke the silence. I snapped back, "There's no such thing as "Jew magic" Cartman we've been over this." Ugh, he's so stupid.

"You're lying!" he yelled, grasping my shoulders. "Your stupid Jew Hexes, you're making me feel funny and disorientated!"

My eyes widened and I tried to shake him off, but let's face it, I'm a lot smaller than he is. "C-Cartman what the fuck?!" I clasped his wrist and tried to yank it off.

"Fuck you, Kyle!" He growled, leaning over me and keeping a firm grip on my shoulders. "Tell me how to make it stop!"

My hands started pushing at his chest, scowling. "Cartman!" I yelled, struggling in his hold. "Fuck off! Let go-"

What he did next... I couldn't fathom it.

My words were cut off by his lips.

I gasped, my eyes wide with shock as Cartman moulded his lips against mine.

Eric MotherFucking Cartman.

Kissed me.

Kyle Broflovski.

_What the fuck?_

I froze, unable to move, unable to speak. My eyes, wide, blinking in disbelief.

Cartman pulled back, panting, looking at me with his soft, stormy eyes. "Nope..." He sighed. "That just made it worse.

I broke from my paralysis and punched him in the nose.

"What the actual fuck Cartman!" I yelled, rubbing my red fist.

He hugged his red, bleeding nose. "I tried to fix your stupid Jew magic Kahl!" He whined at the the broken cartilage.

I still couldn't get over it! He kissed me. Me.

Stood up, pacing back and forth, gritting my teeth and clenching my fists. I-I just can't understand it! Cartman hates me and I hate him! Why would he do such a thing?!

Everyone knows it's pointless to try and understand Cartman, but I- he kissed me!

I may sound like a broken record player, but it was just a lot for me to process right now.

My thoughts stopped when a head a creek, and the following words. "Poopsie-kins?"

Ms Cartman could've had better timing, but I'll take what I can get.

"Ms Cartman!" I called, banging on the hatch. "Help were stuck!"

"MUUUM~" Cartman called, standing up. "I THINK I BROKE MY NOSE."

"What?" Liane said, unlocking the hatch doors and gasping. "Eric, honey, what happened?!"

I pulled myself out, standing up and dusting off my shirt. I could care less if he routed me out or not.

"It was so dark in there I smacked into a wall."

What.

Did he just come up with some bullshit excuse? Why would he miss a chance to get me in trouble?

Oh yeah.

The kiss.

"Well let's go put some frozen peas on it sweetie."

Woo, do I have a story to tell Stan...


End file.
